


March On, Or the Fear Wins

by mandaree1



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: (But not of the romantic variety), Gen, Paranoia, Post-Canon, Soul Bond
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-27
Updated: 2016-04-03
Packaged: 2018-05-29 11:09:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,124
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6372385
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mandaree1/pseuds/mandaree1
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Time goes on, even when friends are apart. The Mystery Shack ends up becoming Wendy's pet project as she helps her friends through the seasons.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Summer (the last day thereof)

Wendy doesn't get much sleep that night, seeing how she'd been in a war just days prior, and now her friends are gone. But that's okay. She'll be drowsy the next day; a good rest is in her future.

She must've conked out eventually, however, because sunlight is streaming into her room when she opens her eyes. She feels that kind of numb you get just before a headache rubs your temples, and her chest is hollow.

Her alarm goes off.

Right. Life things.

Wendy sits up and takes a swipe at her gummy eyes, trying to remember what classes she had. She crawls out of bed to pull on her boots and jacket, resolving to put deodorant on and hope that's enough. Today is just one of those days.

She hesitates only a second before grabbing her axe and stuffing it into her belt, resolving to hide it in her backpack. She feels too vulnerable to go without it.

Wendy stumbles into the kitchen, yawns, and slumps against the door frame. The lack of her father making pancakes and shouting at them to get up is disconcerting. Maybe, in light of recent events, he's decided they can fully fend for themselves, or something.

"Hey. Hey, you."

Wendy jolts and snatches her weapon from her waist. "Who's there?"

A small hand pops up over the windowsill, then disappears. "You got a stool? It's kinda hard to talk to someone when you can't make eye contact."

She doesn't dignify that with a response. "Don't scare me like that, man." Wendy leans out the open window, wrinkling her nose at the familiar mug of a gnome. "What do _you_ want?"

"You got any pie?"

"Shouldn't you be scurrying back to the forest?" Wendy raises an eyebrow. "Somebody might see you."

"Who cares?" He shrugs. "Everyone knows we exist; we're past the denial phase in this town." Touche. "Now, about that pie..."

"Well, uh..." Rifling through the fridge- although lord only knew why she was going along with this- Wendy quickly came to the conclusion that they didn't even have the supplies to _make_ a pie. Also, they really need to go shopping. "We've got bread?"

"That'll do." The gnome hums. "Got any lunch meat?"

"Consider yourself lucky I'm even giving you this." Wendy snaps, tossing the bread- plastic baggie and all- at his head.

"Sheesh, testy." He grumbles, stuffing it into his mouth. The gnome scampers away. "Thanks!"

Dan smashes the wall threateningly, stomping into the kitchen before she has the chance to reply, wielding a bat. "I heard voices."

"Gnome." She shrugs nonchalantly. "He took the rest of our bread."

"Stupid vermin!" He roars, sticking his head out the window in hopes the fleeing creature will hear.

"Eh. It was only half a loaf. Not even; the ends don't count."

"Are gnome traps a thing?" Dan muses, sticking his head into the fridge like she had moments prior. "I feel like that should be a thing."

"Dude, it's too _loud_." Her oldest sibling moans, followed by noises of agreement from the younger two boys as they all cram into the kitchen. Wendy feels a migraine coming on. "It's too early for any of this."

"Why are we awake?" The youngest mumbles.

"Why are we _alive_?" The middle sighs.

"Because we have to go to school. You know, to _learn_ things."

The three boys groan. Dan starts the coffee pot with a shrug.

"Not today. Tyler called for the school year to be pushed up a day this year. Something about 'reconnecting with family and getting help with trauma.'"

"Blech." One of the boys states. "Mushy stuff."

"We're _Corduroy's._ " He slammed his fists down on the counter. "We don't _do_ sentimental. We're gonna spend our day looking for jobs. Forget sitting around and talkin' about our _issues_."

Wendy immediately raises her hand. "I'd better go check up on the Mystery Shack." Anything is better than going door to door.

Her father smiles toothily and ruffles her hair. "Go out there and make a profit, honey!"

* * *

 

Her head feels cooler than normal during her walk to the Mystery Shack. She reaches up to adjust her hat, snatching her hand away when she hits a brim.

Right. She's got Dipper's hat now, which is both a lighter fabric and a lighter color. Wendy wonders if Dipper's having the same problem.

She hesitates only a second before pulling open the door. Stan may have been a jerk sometimes, but she'd always known where she stood with him. Always knew she had a job to come back to. Wendy had never been able to imagine the day Stan Pines left Gravity Falls; it felt like he'd been there from the very beginning, always stealing groceries and scamming the cops.

And now he's gone.

"Hey, Wendy!" Soos appears from the back, effectively jarring her from her thoughts, wearing the Mr. Mystery suit, a familiar old fez perched on his head. Wendy had never imagined such a look for him; he rocks it, oddly enough. "What do you think?"

"It looks good on you, man."

He visibly preens at her words, chest puffing out. "Thanks!"

Wendy shifts her feet and glances around the room. So familiar; so different. "How's the move-in going?"

He paused and twiddled his thumbs. "We haven't really unpacked yet. And there's a buncha stuff that needs fixing up."

"Want some lumberjack help?" She crosses her arms across her chest and grins at him. "I can get you some boards cheap. We can work from the ground up."

"Sounds good, dude." Soos smiles earnestly. It's not hard to tell he's still in the surreal stage of things. "But, uh, if you wouldn't mind? I gotta open shop, and Abuelita needs help unpacking."

"Soos, everything else is closed. Literally, everything. It's okay to take a day off."

He hesitates for a moment, like he's honestly considering it, then reluctantly shakes his head. "If there's one thing Mr. Pines taught me, it's that, no matter what the occasion, tourist traps should never close. Besides, Abuelita can do anything- she's awesome like that- but I don't want her lifting heavy stuff if she can help it, you know? I don't want her to get a back ache."

Wendy lazily salutes "You got it, new boss."

It's strange and oddly appalling to see the boxes piled high in Stan's old living room. Other than the newest attractions, nothing had ever really seemed to change.

"And, _lift_." Wendy strains to yank a heavy box off the top of the pile. It's heading for the bedroom upstairs. "Jeez, ma'am." After all these years, she still doesn't know the woman's name. "Are there _bodies_ in here?"

"Of course not." Abuelita hums. "Hiding a body in a box in the middle of a moving van is silly."

Wendy laughs awkwardly. She's never really known what to say or what to do when it came to Soos's grandmother.

"This place could certainly use a more _feminine_ touch, but I'm proud of Soos." She continued, trailing behind as a sort of guide, despite Wendy having been in the house more than her. "This has been his dream for many years now."

"Some love certainly won't do this place any harm." She agrees. She gets the feeling that the repairs are gonna end up coming out of her paycheck, but hey. Labors of love, and whatnot.

"The attic will be left alone, obviously, but that doesn't mean we can't renovate the walls and such."

 _For Dipper and Mabel._ It goes unsaid. Wendy wishes it hadn't. It wasn't like the kids were dead, after all.

Wendy stops abruptly at the thought, flashes of moment they almost _did_ die coming to mind. Abuelita lets out a small yelp and steps _way _back.__

"I'm sorry." She says warily, eyeing her waist. "I'm just- I keep thinking I'm going to run into you and cut myself."

"Cut your- Oh." Wendy feels a flash of embarrassment as she finally took notice of her uncovered axe, gleaming menacingly in the light. Why hadn't Soos _told_ her? Surely he'd noticed? "Sorry, ma'am. I totally forgot."

She goes to pull it out and set it aside, then pauses, thinking of all the times the tool had saved her life in recent days. Her fingers shook at the thought of leaving it quite yet.

"It's okay, dear." Abuelita gently patted her hand. "Whatever helps you feel safer."

Wendy's shoulders loosen, if only a little bit. Without another word, she moves aside so the older woman can lead them up the stairs. It doesn't matter that she knows this house better.

Whatever helps her feel safer.


	2. Autumn (A time of worry)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wendy has everyone's back; just not her own.

Wendy felt sweat slip down her back as she pulled the last of the leaves into the pile. The breeze chilled them, making her shiver, tightly squeezing the rake handle.

Resolving to burn them later, Wendy adjusts her hat and trudges towards the storage room. Technically speaking, this isn't in her job description, but neither is feeding the wax head or sharpening Manotaur horns in her free time. In its own right, the Mystery Shack has always been more than just a job to her.

"Whoops."

Wendy whips around at the soft voice, hand on her axe, but it's merely Candy, staring at her feet in horror. Leaves lay crunched at her shoes.

"Nice one." Grenda laughs. "Jumping in leaf piles is fun."

"Hey, now." Wendy gestures to them with her rake, ignoring the fact that she had been more than prepared to attack two children just because they made her jump. They would've done the same to her, and she's not just saying that to make herself feel better. These girls are fierce. "I just gathered those."

"Sorry." The poor girl looks so downcast at the thought that she got in the way.

"Don't worry about it. They _are_ pretty fun to roll in." Wendy shifts the hat on her head, used to the difference in its bulkiness compared to her old one by now, but also not. "What brings you to these parts?"

"We're _bored_." Grenda sighs, slumping. After fighting a war, she supposes it's fair they feel that way.

Candy nods. "There's so many things that just aren't fun anymore without Mabel."

Wendy shifts in place. Only a few people have brought the two up by name before this.

"Is there anything we can do here?" They look to her hopefully. They've certainly learned to appreciate a hard day's work. "Any chores, or magic things, or something?"

She shrugs. "I'm sure we can find you two _something_ to do."

They both perk up and head to the shack, Wendy in the lead. She holds the door open for them like her father taught her to, although that was more for any significant others she may have. ("I don't care if you end up dating an _alien_ ; you treat 'em _properly_ , you hear me! We're _Corduroy's_ , not barbarians!")

Soos, currently frowning at a hole in the wall, does't notice. Wendy prods him.

"Hey, man. Can they work here?"

"Huh?" He blinks. "Oh. Sure, dudes. That'd be great."

Candy and Grenda both squeal, racing across the shack to find a place their services were needed. Wendy stares at Soos, already back to frowning at the wall.

"You alright, dude?"

"Are you free tomorrow?" He replies.

No. "Sure. What's up?" She's always had a soft spot for this place, however.

"I wanna work on repairs."

Wendy tips her- or is it Dipper's?- hat. "I'm just the gal to help."

* * *

 

Wendy very pointedly ignores a crack in the wall as she hands Soos the tools to repair the toilet.

"What's on your mind?"

Soos stares at the toilet a long moment before sighing, bending down to have at something with a wrench. "Winter's coming, is all. I just wanna be ready."

Wendy raises an eyebrow. "For what?"

"The dry season. Nobody ever likes travelin' in the cold, except to visit, like, family and stuff." He frowns. "I don't want the shack goin' under my first year."

Wendy surrenders nonchalance to start fixing the crack. It'd get on her nerves if she didn't. "Stan managed for thirty years. It'll work out."

"Mr. Pines is a cheapskate, so he always had extra. That's not a _bad_ thing, but it's just not me, dude."

She shuffles her feet. "You want my paycheck?"

Soos stares at her. "You'd do that?"

"Eh, why not?" It's not like she's living on her own. She can make some extra cash helping her father out cutting trees, if it comes to that. Maybe get a job helping magic folk for gold coins.

He slowly shakes his head. "That doesn't seem fair, though."

That's not a refusal. Best to play this calmly. "I'm just offering." Wendy shrugs. "Don't sweat it, okay? I can work for free. Heck, I can get you some boards and fix things up on the side, if it helps."

"Yeah?"

"Why not? I don't want this dingy place fallin' apart any more than you do."

"Heh. Yeah. Thanks." Soos holds out a fist.

"No prob, dude." She bumps it with her own. "Now, let's finish this thing up."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dan is best father, as far as I'm concerned. You can't tell me he didn't teach his children gentlemanly things ('gentlemanly things' may or may not include learning how to punch out a bear to impress your date, but hey. It's Manly Dan.)
> 
> Fall is a short season, so this is a short chapter. Winter and Spring are much longer.


	3. Winter (the longest time of the year)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wendy teaches Gideon to ice skate and finds herself face to face with her own issues. Also with an axe to the side.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Vague mentions of blood, typical Gravity Falls magic, etc.

Wendy knew it was Gideon before she'd even lifted her head from her magazine.

For one thing, his hair was visible a mile away, and easily towered over her page. For another, she could sense him coming, knew it was him from the mixture of sincerity and anger. Whatever had occurred beforehand had obviously gotten on his last nerve.

It's not magic and it's not telepathy. Mabel considers it a soul bond of sorts, from the blue energy in the circle, and that's probably not all that far off. She can sense Gideon's irritation just like she can feel McGucket's elation as he and his son watch movies together.

It's not magic because she can't control it- by control it, she means turn it off or on; she can somewhat direct flow and intensity- and it's not telepathy because it's not nearly powerful enough to be considered as such. Little snatches of emotion, the odd shared dream. That's nothing.

(Sometimes, if she focuses hard enough, she can glimpse what's going on in another one of their lives through their eyes. She can feel it when somebody does the same to her; it's disorienting, so she tries to avoid doing it.)

If not for all that, then for the fact that his 'rad' shoes squeak with every step he takes, it's obvious what's trotting up to her desk before the bell is rung.

She isn't, however, prepared to see him in a poofy blue hoodie and black sweat pants. On top of his head sits a black felt hat, but the sharp angle of his hair leaves it dangling by mere centimeters. Wendy lowers her magazine, eyes wide. This close, she can practically taste his uncertainty and and anxiety. It's not a pleasant flavor.

"Uh, yo, Wendy." He giggled. "How's it goin'?"

"Dude, you sound like a sitcom straight out of the ninety's."

Gideon's smile faltered. "Do I? Shucks. I'll have to work on that."

Wendy ignores the urge to check to see if he's lying. Gideon has- for the most part- gone straight, and she has no reason to suspect him. "I don't think I've ever seen you in the Mystery Shack before. What's up?"

He looks torn between the urge to remind her that he _has_ been inside before (they're trying to _forget_ that, for obvious friendship-related reasons) and just saying never mind and walking out.

"Dude, it's cool. You need something?"

 _Yes._ The knowledge thrummed through them. It was strange; the only people Wendy was around often from the circle was Soos and Robbie, and she hung out with them so much that she hardly even noticed, because she _knew_ them. With Gideon it felt almost like an intrusion, even though they both knew it wasn't on purpose.

Privately, she wonders if he's the one who glances through their daily lives. Who knows? Maybe it's Stan, channeling his curiosity into cold-hard stubbornness to reach across the world.

(Their lines are so _thin_ , it feels like they could snap at the slightest jostling. Dipper and Mabel's are almost triple their size, and they're a whole state away.)

Gideon flushes. "Could ya' teach me how to ice skate?"

Wendy blinks at him. She's half-certain she miss-translated his folk-talk. "Huh?"

He worried the fabric of his hoodie. "Y'know, ice skatin'. All the kids 're doin' it."

"Well, yeah." The lake froze over every year, and Wendy's been using it as her personal playground since she was little. She just wasn't aware that some people _didn't_ know how to ice skate. It always seemed like survival one-o-one, you know? Right up there with tree climbing and basic weapons training. "Can't your jail buddies help you?"

"They could." He agrees. "But this requires a bit more of a, say, _feminine_ touch, so to speak. That's not really up their alley, you know?" Gideon shrugs. "'Sides, they've been askin' to visit their families for the holidays. I'd be heartless to refuse."

Wendy raises a thin eyebrow, smirking. "You just want the other kids to see you hanging out with an older woman, don't you?"

"What? No!" He rapidly shakes his head, face aflame as he sputters. "That'd be plain silly, and I ain't silly! Not siree! Or, uh, no ma'am-ree?"

"Save it, dork. I'm off in fifteen."

* * *

 

Gideon makes a wheezing noise akin to a dying animal, shoulders hitched up to his ears. Wendy stifles an irritable grunt as he almost falls backwards in the snow.

"Gideon, _calm down_. It's not complicated."

"I'm fine, really." He gasps. "There's nothin' like standing above ice, only a few inches away from drownin' to death, on _tiny_ little blades that're strapped to my feet."

"I tested the ice. It can hold me; it'll hold you. Do you see _any_ death here?"

She waves her hands towards the people skittering around. She's certain her father is amongst them, not to mention the all important mayor Tyler.

"Millions of people die drownin' per year." He whispers.

"Millions? I dunno, man. That's a pretty bogus soundin' statistic." It could be true, for all she knows. Wendy isn't the type to look up the odds of her own death. "'Sides, the cold'll get you before the water does."

"No, it won't."

Again, Wendy is no expert. Relief surges through her at the sight of her friends fast-approaching, Robbie in the lead.

"Hey, Wendy!" He skates to a clean stop. Gideon lets out a dying pig sound from surprise; it reminds her of the time she drop-kicked him across a clearing. Robbie blinks at the boy, face blank. It's not surprise or irritation; just a simple lack of emotion. "Oh, hey. You're that guy. From the... circle thing."

Gideon puffed out his chest, fear momentarily forgotten in the face of recognition. "Yup."

"So, uh." Robbie's eyes flicker between them a moment before settling on Wendy. He jerked a thumb behind him. "Some dude totally brought a Zamboni; we're gonna chase him and chuck snowballs at his head. You should come."

"Can't." She shakes her head, patting the younger boy's shoulder. "I promised Gideon I'd show 'em how to skate."

"Next time, then?" He asks hopefully.

"Next time." She swears.

Robbie nods. Unease bubbles into her gut; his, not hers. The teen obviously remembered Gideon's betrayal.

 _I can hear you!_ The barely contained rage that shoots through them- from Gideon- seems to yell, making them both flinch. Robbie averts his eyes and skates away.

Wendy, so used to being more of a theoretical sounding board than a speaker, lets comfort flow to both of them. It's weird; she's never the one to do this type of thing.

"Alright then." She says simply. "Ice skating."

Gideon takes two steps onto the ice and falls forward. Wendy waits until he crashes to lift him up again, just barely stifling a smirk.

"Any bleeding?"

"No." He grunts, face screwed up with anger. "You could've stopped me from fallin', but you didn't."

Like water from a duck's back, Wendy lets the accusation float away. "You're not a real ice skater until you've smashed your face in. That's, like, a rule."

Gideon's eyes light up. "Really?"

"Of course, man. I do it at least once a year." She grabs him by the wrist and edges forward, at home on the slippery surface. She can hear Thompson complaining about another grounding as his friends cheer him on, snowball in hand. The Zamboni guy looks thoroughly done with life. "Let's try this again."

* * *

 

Wendy makes a mental note to shovel the walk and maybe grab a few logs off the pile for firewood as she steps inside the Mystery Shack. Her hand is placed on her axe reassuringly; she'd had to ditch it, for obvious reasons (killing somebody because they fell on her was not something she planned on doing), and was extremely pleased to have it within arm's reach once again.

"Hey, Soos. I'm back."

Soos sticks his head out of the break room to call down the stairs. "Hey, Wendy? You mind getting the first aid kit?"

Wendy hesitates on the bottom step. "You alright, dude?"

"Uh, yeah. I'm not the one with the boo-boo. Just... grab it, please?"

"I'm on it."

Wendy makes a quick trip to the cabinet in the bathroom to grab the kit before trotting over to the break room. Soos looks guilty and stubborn all at once.

"So, uh. Look. I kinda made it my policy to help anybody injured, so my hands were kinda tied here, dude."

The pulse of anxiety makes her feel unsettled. "Soos?"

Soos clears his throat and moves aside. Celestabellebethabelle, in all her unicorn glory, laid on the bed, her front hoof leaking rainbow fluids onto a stretched out jacket.

Wendy shoves the first aid kit into Soos's chest and whirls around. "Nope. Not doing this. You're on your own."

He grabs her shoulder. "Come on, Wendy! Please?"

Ugh. He's giving her that puppy dog look. She can't compete with that.

* * *

 

Celestabellebethabelle hurt her hoof bravely defending her homeland from a pack of fierce magical predators, only for her and her companions to be kicked to the curb, so to speak. She'd gone to garner help for their cause while the others tried another go at stopping their reign of terror.

At least, that's how _she_ sees it. She's a bit of a braggart about it. In general, really. She's also a bit clingy, limping behind her and the other workers while they're on duty. A 'don't kill the magical horse on shack property' rule has been made and enforced.

Wendy isn't sure if a unicorn can make a sniffing sound, but she's fairly sure the horse made a noise relatively close to it as she gimped after her, a shovel in arm. "Don't you have servants for something like this?"

She can feel the stress coming off of Soos in waves from the house and decides to be the better person about all of this. "Shouldn't you be inside? Y'know, _healing_?"

"I'm not an invalid." She snorts, tail lashing.

"Somebody could see you." She points out.

Wendy became privy to what a deadpan face looks like on a magical horse. "So what? Everyone in this stupid town already knows me. We fought together, after all."

She says it with such importance that Wendy is only seconds away from slugging her. She digs her shovel into the snow instead.

Yes, they fought together. Yes, they went through a lot. But she sounds so stupidly _smug_ about it, like powering the Shacktron and almost getting eaten makes her the better creature. She didn't get permanently linked to a handful of people via destiny ex machina. She didn't get turned into a freaking _tapestry_ (or any piece of furniture, really; no one will ever forget the stone throne of doom). She wasn't forced to carry around a weapon to feel safe, or have nightmares of falling off eye-bats and plunging to her doom.

(She always survives the first impact, spine broken, unable to move. The Shacktron is always forced to crush her in the ensuing chaos. She never screams. Maybe it's best she doesn't; one for the world isn't half bad, right?)

"Uh-huh." Wendy grunts.

Celestabellebethabelle narrows her eyes at her. "When are you going to help me get back my home?"

"Uh, who said we were?" She asks, mostly out of bitterness. Wendy chucks the snow to the side, a dark amusement rising when the unicorn huffs and dodges to avoid getting her hair mussed. "Why not just gather all your buddies together- the one's who didn't already go- and attack?"

"Are you kidding?" She hisses. "Those beasts are _ruthless_."

"So was Bill's army." Wendy points out. "And we beat them."

An unspoken guilt flashes between them, so much so that she didn't need a connection to sense it. They glance away from each other, busying themselves with other tasks. She's surprised to see the horse pushing some snow to the side with her horn.

At the end of it, they didn't do much of anything. Wendy especially feels guilty; she and Soos could've restrained Stan and Ford, but instead they faltered, and the kids were left to face a demon alone _because_ they faltered.

"That was different." Celestabellebethabelle says finally, voice almost soft. "I'll need backup."

Wendy's heart sped up of its own accord. This could be her first fight since the kids left for California (this is their home, as far as she's concerned, and the response from their end of the line speaks of agreement). A good way to kick away the dust, per say, and prove to herself that she's still capable.

"Let me finish this." She sighs, shifting more snow aside. " _Then_ we'll talk."

* * *

 

"Fight! Fight! Fight!" Candy and Grenda chant, leading the way. Wendy notices with some amusement that they've foraged through the shack and found some of Stan's old weapons; a bat for Grenda, and, surprisingly, the brass knuckles (one of the few pairs he left behind) for Candy. Then again, they might have been too small for Grenda's fingers- the girl's got some huge hands. The chanting makes her feel surprisingly pumped about all of this.

Soos's concern rolls off him in waves. "Are you sure it's okay to close the Mystery Shack early?"

"It'll be fine. Nobody comes on a day like today, anyway. Too close to the weekend." Wendy puts a reassuring hand on his shoulder, scrunching her cheeks against the chill of drying warpaint. Celestabellebethabelle looked completely done with them, but she was the one who ordered their assistance, so there was nothing she could do.

"They're _savages_." She warned, high-stepping as though anyone was going to miss the bright scabbing on her leg, just above the hoof. "They captured the others in my herd and used them as _steeds_."

"What _did_ take over everything, anyhow?" Soos asks, and it suddenly occurs to her that no specifics had ever been mentioned. "Like, you dudes are big, but you're ridiculously skinny. Not just anybody can ride you guys."

True enough. She once took a unicorn out by tackling it.

"Well..." The horn glows bright with her hesitation.

"Halt!" Hoof steps thudded closer. "How dare ye' enter our territory!"

Figures stampede out of the forest near the gates, drawn on unicorn back with reinforced reins.

Wendy lowers her freshly sharpened axe with surprise, a snort escaping her. "You've _got_ to be kidding me."

This, as it turns out, is a big mistake.

* * *

 

Wendy shuffles up the stairs, her favorite green shirt tied around her waist and her black undershirt plastered with mud, close to the breastbone, and a chest of gold and trinkets in her arms.

Unicorns are ridiculously easy to blackmail, it turns out.

"And you guys said messing with magic would never lead to anything good." She hums, setting the chest on the sturdy table. Her three brothers stare at her, slack-jawed.

Their father shares none of their hesitance. Dan sweeps her off the floor in a hug, yelling his pride. A wave of pain flows through her. Wendy quickly stifles it, essentially freezing her line in the circle with a harsh grip. Soos's concern was like a balm; she didn't, however, want him at her doorstep in the middle of the night, demanding to know if she was okay.

He sets her down and holds out a fist that's almost as big as her head. "Good job, honey!"

Wendy bumps it, grinning shyly. He may have his faults, but no one can deny that her father loves his family.

"How did you even _get_ this?" Her oldest brother squeaks. And to think, just last week he'd been expressing concern for her wellbeing.

("I'm not supposed to put you in the ground 'till you're, like, seventy, sis!"

"Don't worry. If something magic does get me, there won't be a body to bury. Just burn what you find. And dunk some holy water on it. Just in case.")

"Hush money." Her smile turns into a smirk. "Did you know unicorns can get their butts kicked by leprechauns?"

* * *

 

Later, after finding the time to excuse herself, Wendy unties her shirt and glances at herself in the mirror. A long, deep gash stretches down her hip and into her thigh; part of her pants were ripped because of it.

Her shirt is stained red. Wendy groans and tosses it aside, crouching down to grab at the first aid kit she'd hidden under her bed.

Leprechauns, she's found, are fierce, territorial little boogers. They're also strong enough to rip an axe out of your arms and get a good blow in before you deck them off, say, a unicorn.

Dipper's hat, perched on her bedside table for fear she'd lose it in the chaos, watches her clean and wrap the wound in silence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, Wendy's trying too hard. Thanks for noticing. 
> 
> She's also the main emotional tie for their little bond, hence her innate ability to sooth and dampen certain emotion. She's the ice to the wound, quite literally. (and, yes, that pun was on purpose)


	4. Spring (the season of fevers and anxious boredom)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Summer is slowly approaching, and Wendy finds herself... making flower crowns?

  
The scar from her run-in with the leprechaun's becomes a sort of local legend. Wendy, being a Corduroy, has never been ashamed of getting hit by a little man on a magical horse, and gossip had immediately started flying around once the line peeking out from her waistband showed up.

It pokes up now, even, the sharp blade of her axe hanging ironically to the side of it.

"Forget spring fever. We've all got _twin_ fever."

Tambry, thumbs skimming expertly over the buttons on her phone, gave a shallow nod. "People are seriously freaking out."

Wendy stretches her legs out as they walked. Trees lined the sides of the road, ripe for chopping. Her father had predicted a good year for the lumberjacks of Gravity Falls, and he certainly wasn't wrong. Now all they had to do was wait for the money to flow in. "I get it. I do. I'm just as pumped. But, for pete's sake, we've got _months_ yet."

"It'll be nice to have them back. This town gets boring fast when no one's plotting world domination, or whatever." She hums. "What about you? How're you feeling? Insert other mushy sentiments that show I care here."

"Tired." Wendy replies, honest. Her shoulders sag. "I've been working my butt off to keep up with orders."

Not a total lie. The people of Gravity Falls are a naturally clunky bunch, breaking this and that, and so the Corduroy family will never run out of work. But it's more than that. Most of her money- and her energy- is going to the Mystery Shack, from helping Soos set up the lifelike statue of Stan, to pulling out walls to properly rewire the old electricity lines so no one catches on fire. It's _exhausting_ , and more things pop up by the day. If it weren't for the anxiety and fear rolling off Soos's line and into _her_ (whether she likes it or not, he immediately turns to her when things get tough, even subconsciously), she might've thrown her hands into the air and given up by now.

(Except that she's a Corduroy, and Corduroy's don't know _how_ to give up.)

"Having a job must suck." Is her only reply.

She raises an eyebrow. "Tambry, you _have_ a job."

"Yeah. But you, like, leave your job to go home, where you have _another_ job. That's just too much work, man." The girl pauses. "That's not what I meant, either."

"It's not?"

"Yeah. I mean, like, emotionally? Since you're all synced up, or whatever."

The fact that Tambry knows this doesn't really surprise her, considering she's her best friend, as well as Robbie's girlfriend. Someone was bound to let it slip eventually. Heck, it wouldn't surprise her if the whole _town_ knows, because Mabel isn't one to keep these sorts of things to herself, and, likewise, neither are Candy and Grenda.

(Well, she can't really see her telling anyone in California, but here? Tell _all_ of the people here.)

Wendy reaches up to massage her brow, feeling her age before she's even really old. "Like I said; twin fever. Everybody's excited. _Everybody_. It's overlapping my own vibes. I can't even help them chill; too much all at once."

"Not gonna lie, that sounds like the worst thing ever." Tambry spares her a concerned glance over the phone. "Can't you, like, cut the connection?"

Wendy bit her lip. Logically speaking, there's probably a form of magic out there that can cut the rope, so the speak. But this is her only lasting way to see into the health and wellbeing of the kids and the Stans. Like, honestly. You can't really lie with your emotions, and in every other aspect those people _love_ to lie to keep themselves separated and others happy.

She shrugs. "I dunno."

"Does it ever hurt?"

"Gives me a headache, sometimes." Someone will pop into her head space just as she's about to tip over, in a sense, leading to the odd afternoon spent curled up in bed with dark chocolate. Otherwise, it's fairly harmless. "Sharing the odd dream or memory is kinda weird, but it doesn't hurt or anything."

"Memories? Like what?"

"Uh..." Wendy focuses a second to see if anything's floating around, then finds herself laughing. "Dipper got into a fist fight with Stan. Dude got his butt kicked and got knocked out. Hit a table with his face. He's totally got a scar on his cheek now." She reins herself in with some difficulty. "Stan's proud of 'em, even if he _is_ an idiot."

"Dude." Tambry chuckles, and Wendy feels relieved that the topic has shifted from her. "They're all such _dorks_."

* * *

 

"Soos, we don't even know where they'll want to _stay_. Chill."

"That is true." The older man squints at a crack in the wood floor, trying to decide if it's serious enough to be a fix, before moving on. "But it's not like they got a lot of options."

"McGucket's _mansion_?" She states flatly.

"Alright, you got me there. But Mr. Pines lived here for years, and Mr. Pines's old lab is here."

"...Touche." Wendy concedes defeat with a shrug, hammering in a board with ease. "We should probably fix that place up, now that I think about it."

"I'm kinda scared to go down there, you know? Mr. Pines may _say_ he cleared it out, but anybody can goof up. There might be, like, a face-melting rat or somethin'."

"That," Wendy drawls. "Would be awesome."

Soos chuckles. "I know, right?"

"So, next week, then? I'll bring the armor and some extra weapons."

"Sounds like a deal, dude."

Wendy lets him continue his inspection for awhile, fooling him into believing she can't detect the man-child angst under the swarm of fake-happy emotions. Things have been stressful for him, and they both know he needs a break. This sudden ramp-up of fixing is only going to make things worse.

She leans against the wall, arms crossed. "Alright, so what's the _real_ issue here?"

Her new boss- it's weird to consider him as such, seeing how they've been buddies and co-workers for a long time now- jerks his head up with a grunt of irritation. "Man. This whole not lying thing sucks." He whines.

"It's no picnic for me either." The fact that her private stress is now on display for a group of people to wade through at any time is far from fun. "But I don't need the link to tell. It's kinda obvious something's on your mind."

He sighed, slumping a tad. "You think Mr. Pines'll be proud of me? I tried so hard, but he's the _master_ of this stuff. I just... wanna make 'em happy."

"Dude. You fought a horde of _leprechaun_ s. You stole a chest of gold."

"Blackmailed." Soos corrects, almost without thought.

"Whatever. All you're missing is a serial number and a rigged game of cards and you'll be totally on his level."

"You think so?"

"Know so." Wendy sinks down on the floor next to him. "We've had an awesome year for the Shack. We illegally employed thirteen-year old kids to guard the place. We gave them _weapons_. Stan wouldn't have done it any other way, 'xcept we did it better." She pumped a fist in emphasis.

"Heh heh. Yeah. You got a point there, dawg." The beginnings of a smile peeked its way into existence. "And this place looks better than ever!"

"Totally. And, hey. It's not _all_ about them. You've got a good career ahead of you, and this year proves it. You'll be rocking this joint 'till the day you die."

"Definitely." He crows, a bit more sure of himself now. "The Corduroy's will definitely always be my first stop when I need something fixed, that's for sure."

"Best place in town." Wendy hums, getting to her feet. "The kids'll be begging to work here."

All at once, his face falls. Soos draws imaginary pictures in imaginary dust. "You don't think they'll think I'm trying to replace him, do you?"

"Huh?"

"Well, look at me. Same suit; same Shack. Same legally ambiguous way of runnin' things, although to a lesser extent."

"We really _have_ cinched up our collars, haven't we?" Wendy says, an eyebrow quirked. "We'd pass a health inspection now and everything. Well, maybe."

"Sometimes I kinda feel like a creep, you know? Like I'm tryin' to replace him. Sometimes, I don't. I just don't want those dudes to see me like that."

"Considering you've never been arrested in a foreign country, never tried to smuggle pugs across a border, and never kept a thirty year long secret involving a portal and a twin, I think you're fine." She narrows her eyes at him. "Wait. You're not keeping a thirty year long secret involving a twin, are you? Because I deserve to know of such things."

"Nah, dude. No twins. I promise." Soos paused. "Well, most of my family looks alike, but no blood twins. Pinkie swear."

Wendy holds out her little finger. Soos takes it with his own.

"I'll hold you to it, then."

* * *

 

If someone had told her a year or two ago that she would be spending a day of her Spring Break making flower crowns with Pacifica Northwest, she probably would've laughed in your face. Or decked you. She was having some temper issues between her late middle school-early high school days, so it's an good chance of either.

Alright, alright. She should probably back up a bit.

Pacifica, composed of a wonderful mixture of family issues, angst, and pride, is impossible to miss. Wendy had noticed, with some amusement, that the girl had quickly learned to take as much pride in being 'poor'- let's be real here; middle class, if that- as she did in being rich. Wendy gave her her props for that.

Still, it wasn't normal for her to come tip-toeing through the Mystery Shack. It was even less normal for her to actually be perusing the shelves, instead of disappearing with Candy and Grenda in the back for makeovers.

Whoops. Did she say that out loud? Ssh. She's been sworn to secrecy, so don't tell anybody.

Anywho, it's kind of her job to see if customer's need help, you know? So she doesn't really have an option.

She shoves her hands in her pockets as she shambles over. "What's up?"

Pacifica shuffles her feet, looking vaguely ashamed. "Uh, well..." She sighs. "Look. My parent's anniversary is coming up. Do you have anything shiny?"

She pulls out a handful of dollar bills sheepishly. "And, like, cheap, but not cheap looking?"

Wendy squints at the girl. "Don't you have an allowance, kid?" Because she has a job; cleaning McGucket's home as a maid, ironically enough.

It was also no secret that her family's new business's success was largely due to her. Customers spoke freely about how, instead of meeting the owner himself, they were sent to his daughter, as he was still squeamish around common folk. Rumors speculated that the girl was in charge of a large part- if not all- of Preston Northwest's money books, and could copy his signature with ease.

Wendy knows it to be fact. She also knows _why_ she had taught herself such things. The fact that such precautions to keep her safe with her own _family_ is downright sad, but it's good to see the girl step up and totally own it.

(Wendy understood the pressure of handling money. Her dad has a habit of rushing to the hospital- either in the bed or beside it- once every few years, and _someone_ has to take charge while he was gone.)

"Of course I do." She lifts her chin slightly, shoving the money into her pockets once again. "But it's not really a gift if the person you're giving it to is paying for it, right?"

She has a point. "There's not really a whole lot of gift stuff, to be honest. Soos is working on that. Unless your folks like taxidermy animals. Then they'll have a blast."

Pacifica wrinkles her nose. "Does _anybody_ like that sort of thing?"

"You'd be surprised." She replies wryly. "Hey, why don't you just make them something?"

Her face goes blank. It's not the kind of blank Wendy sees her do when her father is chattering on about things she doesn't agree with; it's honest confusion.

"People... do that?" Pacifica slowly asks.

"Duh. It's, like, kid 101." Wendy can remember the cheesy arts and crafts cards just as vividly as she remembers chopping down her first tree.

"Common families are weird." Is her only reply, but she feels the longing under the disdain. How she'd wanted to say 'normal' instead of 'common.'

"Alright, let's try something easy. Your folks like flowers?"

Pacifica's tongue sticks out in what some might call a shameless display as she threads flower stems together. "You know, I never imagined _you_ , of all people, doing something like this."

"Oh, yeah?" Wendy raises an eyebrow, passively examining the ring of wildflowers. "How so?"

"You're a lumberjack. You know, buff tree-choppers. Not to mention you grew up with just your dad and brothers."

Wendy snorts out a laugh. Pacifica's face flushes with indignation and embarrassment. "What? He's called _Manly_ Dan for a reason!"

She contains herself a bit, still smiling. "Sure, he's manly. He could beat the crud out of a wall and arm wrestle a tank while he's at it, but I'll be _darned_ if he didn't play princesses with me and teach me to sew and bake and all that junk. Just goes to show how manly he _really_ is."

"I... can't imagine you doing any of that either, honestly."

"Eh." She hums passively. "I'm better at bandaging cuts than I am at baking a pie, but hey. It's the thought that counts."

Eventually she stands up and brushes the spare lawn clippings off her pants. They'd been in the weeds next to the Mystery Shack, taking advantage of her break to get down and dirty. Well, as close to it as you get, sitting next to a primadonna and messing with flowers.

Pacifica bites her lip and carefully picks the bundles up. "Thanks, I guess." She pauses. "Can you... tell how they are?"

"Can't _you_?" She asks. Pacifica shrugs.

"Sort of? My link isn't quite as strong as yours, you know? I think it's your age, maybe? Or just how you affect the lines personally?" She shook herself. "Something feels off, is all."

It should. They're in the hospital; something about a collapsed building, during a unfortunate anomaly hunt.

This news came to her, not by the link, but via the wonders of coded letters. They're fine, just a pulled shoulder and cracked bone individually, but the discomfort was like a muscle twinge; it's always there, and you can't quite forget about it.

"They'll be okay." She finds herself saying. "They're just as bored as the rest of us, is all."

* * *

 

Wendy feels the blow to the pride like it's a blow to her face, and finds Pacifica waiting for her after work the next day, head down.

"Mom and dad... didn't appreciate the presents. They said something about how they weren't 'real' flowers and... _disposed_ of them."

The memory of them crinkling under the force of a stove flame in the early hours of the morning- after they thought she was in bed, after they thought she was oblivious, _after they thought_ \- flashes between them. Pacifica's shoulders jerk, then slope downwards slightly, watching her reaction through lidded eyes.

Wendy lets soothing memories float between them, specifically of Manly Dan's roar that no one would ever _not_ be welcome in his home, especially if they don't have anywhere else to go. (This coming on after a conversation concerning the girl in question and social services sniffing around, but that was a long time ago, and nothing came out of it, so she doesn't add it to the lines and tone of the comfort.) "Flower snobs, eh? Well, alrighty then. Let's make them some flower bouquets."

The blonde hesitates. "They won't accept the things we were using before."

"Yeah, I know. There's a place I know with 'real' flowers." She bunny-ears the word. "It's just too far for me to hike on my break."

Wendy shows her to a plain of flowers, then shows her how to grab a bundle and tie it off with the stems.

"Did you dad show you this place?" She feels her reaching, eagerly searching for an embarrassing moment, or anything at all, really, but she gives her own line a choking death grip. Nope. Not happening. If she wants childhood memories and trauma, she can ask it to her face.

(She's still trying to figure out the hows and whys, she forcibly reminds herself. She's not _trying_ to be rude.)

"Sort of." She shrugs. "This is just one of those places you never _not_ know about."

Pacifica, arms full of flowers, glances around the surrounding trees. "It's weird to find a place so... open."

"That's what happens when you overwork the land." She pats her axe in a silent reminder. "Everything used to be woodland in these parts, but then all the lumber folk gotta hold of it."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. Most of the old structures 'round here came from the end of a Corduroy's axe. We're one of the few lumber families still around."

"Huh." Pacifica ties a few yellow flower's together before pausing. "Wendy?"

"Yup?"

"Has your family _always_ been a lumber family?"

"Yup." Wendy picked a couple of white ones thoughtfully. "Well, not all of us, obviously. We've had a couple of tailors, one or two writers, the like. One guy- he was a stunt double? Or was it an actor? Maybe both? But, yeah. Most of us end up becoming lumberjacks. We have more wood in our blood than we do brains, I think."

"Cool. Most of my family ends up in the mudflap business, so... I get it, I guess?" She nods to the looming house on the hill. A mish-mash of unfortunate memories stir within her, going through the line and into her before she can rein them in. Pacifica doesn't acknowledge that they've been passed through. "Did you family help build the Manor?"

Wendy whistles lowly. "Yeah. It's ironic, though."

"What is?"

"My great-grandfather, I think it was?" She pauses in thought, then shrugs. "He fell on his axe. A lumberjack, killed by his own tool."

Pacifica jerks a bit, wide-eyed. "But that guy wasn't a ginger!"

She blinks at the girl owlishly. "Nah. That came from my great-grandma's side. You've heard of it?"

She bit her lip and nodded. "There's some records. And... his ghost, kinda... haunted us? Just a little bit. Dipper fixed it."

Images flash between them once again, with mixed emotions. Wendy blinks and stares at the ground, flabbergasted. She knew her line in this town went far back. It was another thing to have visible proof of it.

"Huh." Wendy shrugs off an interest in prying and gathers a few more stems. "It's like they always say, I guess. Don't mess with a Corduroy."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> True manliness comes from being able to stay confident in oneself even while in a pretty pink dress at a tea party with your daughter.


	5. Summer (A time for letting go). It's a circle, you see.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wendy learns to trust something other than her weapons once again.

Wendy examines herself in the mirror with a low whistle. Her shoulders are hunched, eyes crusty. She looks like the sandman decided to rub his dirt in her face, sans the magic. (He's jerk enough to do that, let her tell you.) "Ugh."

Her skin is tingling unpleasantly, like a sugar high, only without the jitters. There's a nervous churning in her gut; that, however, is just her stress acting up. It's also one of the only emotions that are purely hers, and she finds herself reveling in it for once, rather than hating it.

This is not how she wants to look and feel on today, of all days.

More bursts of nervous excitement shot through the lines, making her sway at her feet, grabbing at the mirror to keep upright. It's too early for this. She's lightens the blows before letting them flow back out.

This is what she's been reduced to, then. A cotton ball. Making sure no on gets the full weight of the feelings coming from their circle mates.

(Can you tell she hasn't really slept the past two days?)

Right. Up and at 'em. A shower and- she shudders to think of it- a bit of eyeliner should do the trick. Her skin is sensitive to makeup. One day should only lead to a bit of irritation, however.

She steps into the shower, ignoring another blast of emotion. Let them deal with their own problems, for once.

Wendy takes extra time to wash her hair out, mostly just to irritate her brothers, and steals some of their bath wash, forsaking her more feminine kind to make up for the paint she's going to splatter across her face.

(She's got nothing against makeup. Really. You wanna wear it? Good for you. She just has a certain amount of girly she can take in her day to day comfort zone.)

One scolding via her siblings later- which she blandly stares at them through; she hasn't even begun and she's done with all of this- Wendy puts on her usual getup and then a little more, looking about as perky as a teen with little sleep normally does. She pulls a jacket on over her scar; she'll whip that puppy out when Dipper gets to bragging about _his_ little face mark. Her fingers twitch toward her axe, her security blanket for the past year, then pause. She could only imagine the questions they would have if she brought it; the looks they'd give her.

But, at the same time, she's bound to be around gnomes and Manotaurs and the like for the welcome party. Any number of magical predators could take the offer for a free meal presented to them and attack. What then?

Her pulse skitters at that, images of her friends in various states of mutilation popping up in her mind. She remembers, too late, to close off her end of the line. The majority of that sentiment goes through unbidden.

Comfort flows through her almost immediately in the form of an image. Teeth bared, hair wild, a triumphant gleam in Wendy's eyes as she fights. Something about the way she's holding herself looks strong and dignified; indeed, the blood sticking her shirt to her side is the red of pride. A protective entity he knows he can always turn to.

It's how Soos sees her. His opinion is a bit too high for comfort, if she's honest with herself. Anybody would do something like that; you'd have to be a mighty big coward _not_ to.

Gideon- begrudgingly- reminds her of the time she kicked him like a football- no small feat, considering he's closer to a hundred than he is fifty pounds- while Pacifica, with some trouble, shows her the field she picked flowers in, peaceful and warm.

If that's the case, she returns fiercely, then all the more reason for her to take it with. Somebody's gotta fight the good fight, so to speak.

McGucket is a smidge angry at that thought, taking offense at the idea than an old man with a banjo can't fight his own battles, but Robbie gave an emotional nod yeah, because he wasn't the strongest fighter he knew by far.

He has a point. Both of them. Wendy isn't a knight in shining armor, fighting tooth and nail for a cause. She needs to trust them to fight their own battles.

She reminded herself, for the umpteenth time, that Bill is dead. His dimension and theirs was closed off, and, with immortality in mind, it could be hundreds of years before they tried again. Thousands, even. Long after she was gone. It takes time for a setup like the one they had thirty-odd years ago to form; it isn't an everyday occurrence that two twins who haven't seen each other in years fight in an experiment-filled basement, after all.

And, _should_ something happen, her puny little axe wouldn't be enough to stop it. It's time to stop playing the hero when there's no villain to fight.

" _Alright_." She says forcefully, smacking her palm against the side of her head in an effort to block out all the positive emotions and images being sent her way. "I get it. I'm okay."

Nevertheless, Wendy yearns to grab the handle a few more minutes before she successfully turns and walks away without regret, exiting by means of the front door to meet up with Soos to wait at the bus stop. (First Dipper and Mabel, then Stan and Ford a few days later; they're coming by water.)

Let it collect dust, for all she cares. She has more pressing matters to attend to.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Because, after the finale we've had, I have to. =)


End file.
